All of Me
by cookiemonsterfanatic
Summary: What if Olivia had a chance to do it all again? A chance to make better decisions? Thrown back in the past, with the power to control her future, can she actually get a second chance?


**CHAPTER 1 – Is this darkness of the dawn?**

**:: James Blake - Retrograde ::**

Olivia knew that she must've fallen asleep because the last thing she could remember was Jake's hand in hers. A silent assurance in his hopeful gaze. However, now as her eyelids fluttered, he was no longer beside her, the seat beside her was now empty.

Dazed and unsure, she brushed her hair down and lifted her head to search the cabin. When finding that it was empty, Olivia forced down the ominous dread at the pit of her stomach. She assured herself with the thought that he was probably in the bathroom.

Before sitting back down, a pretty blonde manicured hostess approached her. A hand calmly placed on her shoulder. "We will be landing soon so please remain in your seat" a voice sweetly advised.

Olivia's taut smile wavered as she realised this wasn't the hostess from before. However, this one was all too familiar but she couldn't place her face. Something about the whole situation sparked a feeling of déjà vu. Regardless, her mind was far too crowded with her recent decision to question her suspicions further. Instead, she steered into a different direction.

"Where did my friend go? Captain Ballard?" she wondered, settling back into her seat.

The hostess frowned. "I'm sorry, who?"

As Olivia readied herself to answer, the intercom interrupted them. "Folks, we have begun our descent to Washington, where the current weather is cold and snowy. Temperature dropping to a breezy 4 degrees, so get your coats ready, as we will be in the gate in about twenty minutes-"

Olivia paused, unsure as to whether she had heard correctly. Her eyes frenziedly searched for familiarity and reason as to what was happening. Then, ignoring the hostess' enquiries, she pushed the window open, surprised at the sight. What had been a cloudless sky was now dull and frosty. The city below slowly appearing into view and she panicked when focusing on the vague silhouette of the white house. She blinked, hoping that the fog was playing tricks on her but was disappointed.

"Did he say Washington?"

This time, she couldn't help but unbuckle herself. She jumped out of the seat, ready to storm into the cockpit and question the pilots. All the while considering calling Rowan and demanding for some answers. Maybe he was tricking her again, playing another one of his games.

"Miss Pope, you have to take a seat" the hostess, Linda, as her nametag read, now placed a firm hand onto her arm.

Olivia yanked herself away and crossed her arms. "Why are we back in Washington? Where is Jake?" she asked, trying to keep her voice level.

Linda was worried and annoyed to have the disturbance to her break. "You are quite hysterical but if you take your seat we can take you to see a physician as soon as we l-"

"Why are we back? Is something wrong with the engine?" she nervously tucked her hair behind her ear.

The hostess recognised the genuine fear in Olivia's eyes. Her frustration was replaced with empathy and she offered a weak comforting smile. "You should sit back down" Linda wanted to explain about the weather and the danger of standing when landing. Though, Olivia's phone rang in that moment.

"Miss, your phone should be switched off-"

Her warning was left unregistered as Olivia sat back down and answered the phone. The name had simply read; MR. BEENE and it gave her hope of what was real.

"Cyrus?" she sighed in relief but also apprehensive of what he would say. She knew she shouldn't be answering as she had cut all ties with her past life. He should know by now that she had left because of the letter she left for him. That was probably why he was calling.

"Miss Pope" the formal greeting stunned Olivia. "I was just wondering if you have arrived yet? Your plane was supposed to land ten minutes ago and yes I may sound desperate but right now I don't care. One way or another, I will be sitting on the right hand of the throne"

Olivia was officially struck. The words had been imbedded into her thoughts. She remembered them all too well, hearing them on her first arrival to Washington.

"Cyrus? What – what are you talking about?" she muttered fearfully.

Her friend gritted his teeth and excitedly exclaimed, "The freaking primary elections! We are getting slaughtered and Sally is dancing on our graves, singing her praises and cursing the Republican Party" he continued rambling but Olivia had zoned out. "But my boy Fitz is the real thing and you and I are going to do everything in our power to make sure-"

At the mention of him...Olivia couldn't help but snap out of the trance with a loud yell. "Cyrus!"

"What? What is it?" Cyrus inquired.

Too many questions bombarded her but she managed to croak one out. "What day is it?"

"November 30th" he replied flippantly with ease, unbeknownst with Olivia's horror-stricken expression. He couldn't see how her eyes were cold, widening with shock and fear.

Rather, Cyrus continued to speak, each word already anticipated as she heard them before. "And yes, you said it before and I'm so very grateful. Happy Holidays and such. I know you missed out on vacation time with your family but I will buy you that damn turkey. 10 turkeys if you manage to steal Iowa. I cannot wait to see that bible bumping bitch have the rug pulled from her feet – excuse my French but you should have seen her-"

"Cyrus!" she interjected sharply.

"Yes"

"I'll call you back"

Not waiting for a reply, Olivia shakily set her phone down and looked out the window. She watched as they descended back to Washington.

**-XxxxX-**

Half an hour flew by with Olivia inches away from the exit but unable to bring herself to her feet. She remained where she was; sat on her suitcase, listening to others' mindless chatter and waiting for reality to kick in. All the while, picking up the habit that she had been scolded for in boarding school. Her manicured nails were now chipped and uneven but she could not care less.

Her mind was transfixed on the airport's small chain of Rino's, contemplating on buying a bottle of Merlot or even two. However, she knew that she needed to be sober, focused, in order to comprehend what had happened.

Jake was not on the plane. Jake had never been on the plane.

Unless she was trapped in some dream. Or worse, a nightmare in which she could not escape.

No – it couldn't be. It had gone on for far too long and her intake of each intricate detail of the airport was too real. Everything about the world around her was real. She could smell the fresh pastries from the oven as they were laid out on display on Bernie's Bakery. She could hear the clacking of heels on linoleum, the whirring of vending machines and the hum of suitcases being rolled across the surface. She could see the snowflakes melting on the glass walls of the insulated airport.

No, it was certainly not a dream.

Instead, she decided to put on the white hat she had retired and regain her logic. Perhaps, this was all a trick. A foiled plan guised by her father. The man who was known for his tricks and mind games. Maybe this was another sick and twisted lesson to remind her of who was in charge.

That being the closest thing to an ideal truth, Olivia fished for her phone and swept through the contacts. She clicked on his name and listened to the dialling tone. Her bottom lip trapped between her teeth as she fought the desire to anxiously bite her nails.

"Hello?" the familiarity of the voice grounded her. Her other hand flew up to grip the phone as she replayed the voice in her head.

"D-dad..." she murmured hesitantly.

"Olivia?"

This time, he sounded even more perplexed. A thick and heavy weight in the bass of his tone.

She breathed out a sigh of relief, before beginning her rant. "Dad, something is wrong –something is monumentally wrong. I don't understand what happened. One minute I'm on a plane with Jake and the next the pilot is flying us back to Washington. It's snowing and-"

"You're calling me?" her father interjected. "You never call me"

Olivia stopped, startled by the surprise in his voice. "What?" she breathed, barely audibly,

"Why are you calling me?" a beat of silence. "Olivia? Are you alright? Is something wrong?"

Yes, something was very wrong.

When she didn't reply, he found the confidence to speak. "I was actually thinking about you" he started stoically, almost expectant, as if waiting for something. His voice was different, familiar but estranged with fear and uncertainty. "I was wondering if you wanted to have dinner. Maybe this Sunday?" he bravely asked, taking advantage of the opportunity presented.

Olivia stilled, staring ahead, unblinking and unable to move. "Sunday..."

Her silence frustrated him and he snapped. "I apologised Olivia but our relationship cannot be about you using my money and-"

"I have to go" she quipped and ended the call. With one grip on her suitcase handle and the other pulling on her handbag, she raced towards the glass doors. "Taxi!"

**-XxxxxX-**

Despite the fear of what she would find, Olivia rushed up to her apartment – or what would be left of it. She was scared of what she would find but she decided that would be the best place to start.

Being back in Washington was both a relief and a burden. She knew what it meant to return and what it would cost her to leave. Unsure of how to feel about it, she thought she would make her way back to safe ground. Somewhere she could think, with reason and logic.

A large exhale left her when she reached the large wooden door. Her eyes locking onto the brass metal 3, which had the power to give her the strength and courage to carry on. It made her feel less lost and alone. However, that was slowly diminished when she remembered leaving the keys to the housing office.

In a desperate search, she checked under the plant beside her apartment for the spare key. Only her frenzied state was interrupted with footsteps approaching her.

"Miss Pope, I thought I heard you"

She turned and her wide eyes landed on the well-known, aged and potbellied man standing by the now opened door. "I was just about to call you. I assumed your flight was delayed" he continued, scratching his beard and taking a step towards her. "Here are you keys" he handed them over. "I faxed you the contract but here is another copy. Your boxes arrived and as instructed, I told them to leave them in the apartment" Mr. Connery gruffly recounted and then loudly clapped his hands together. His cheeks were pink from the cold and his lips stretched into a wry grin. "Any problems, you know my number" he patted her shoulder lightly and began to walk down the other end. "Welcome to the building" he called, disappearing around the corner.

Olivia blinked. She looked as if she had seen a ghost and quite frankly, she had.

She had only just witnessed the materialisation of the landlord who had showcased her the apartment. The same landlord who had died from a heart attack less than five years ago.

Trembling and now stricken to the core, Olivia all but rammed her way into the apartment. Nothing was making any sense and she needed...

She knew what – or who she needed but she could not allow her mind to drift that far.

Resting her back on the door, she stared at the empty apartment. As anticipated and dreaded, her unpacked boxes were in the middle. The picture from her moving day, reminding her of how she smiled at the pale light streaming into the empty space. It mirrored the hollow pit she felt sink in her stomach.

Slow, languid and cautious steps inched her towards the phone that was already connected. The red beeping light was an indication to new messages. With one press of a button, she listened as the stoic voice relayed instructions before the first message played.

"I love you Olivia, I really do but you better be in a coma or at gunpoint because you better damn well have a good excuse for standing me up today" Cyrus' irritation filled the room, an echo that bounced off the walls before an unsettling silence returned.

There was an urge to throw the phone across the room but instead, she found her knees finally giving in. Her body slumping to the cold hardwood floors, as she battled with the raging headache. The state of surrealism was enough to give her an aneurysm.

She knew where she was or more significantly, when she was. However, it couldn't be true. It couldn't be done. She could not consider the idea of time travel. There had to be another explanation.

Only, another thought popped into her head. This one consuming and gnawing at her.

She knew what she wanted – what she needed at that point.

She needed him.

She could not make it through this without him.

**cookiemonsterfanatic:** **"Stand in the sun with me"**


End file.
